Shatterday
by The DG Forum
Summary: Are they brave enough to try again?
1. Part One

This story was written for **Toria** in **_The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Summer 2013_** by a member of the forum. For more details please visit our page!

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"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

― Kahlil Gibran

**Shatterday**

**Part One**

Ginevra Weasley was a strong, fiercely independent woman who juggled a busy social life, an overtly large family and a high-pressure job at the Daily Prophet. However, the mere thought of her ex-boyfriend catching one glimpse of her in the yellow monstrosity that Luna Lovegood had given her bridesmaids was enough to make her want to run and hide beneath her bed and not surface for at least four months. Or, at the very least, kick and punch at the floor until Luna agreed to take at least _some _of the ruffles off the bodice.

It wasn't as though things had ended _too _badly between her and Draco...well, no, that's a Rita Skeeter sized mistruth. Things had ended incredibly badly between the two of them. Messy, heart-breaking, impulsive and...bad. Just lots and lots of bad. Two wonderful years together filled with laughter, fire, feuding families and love culminated in Draco looking ashen and forlorn as Ginny bolted out the door of one of the most prestigious Italian restaurants in Wizarding London, a beautiful medieval ring still nestled in the navy velvet of a little box. The emerald glinting in the flickering candlelight, mocking both lovers and their sea of onlookers; I'm what could've been.

She hadn't actually spoken to him since that evening. Or rather, he'd refused to speak to her and by the time he'd licked his wounds Ginny had been deep undercover getting the inside scoop on a few renegade dark wizards who still believed in blood purity and the eradication of Muggles from the planet. It had been terrifying and exhausting, and once it was over, Ginny realised eight months had passed and Draco was splashed all over the society pages with various blondes and brunettes clutching at his arm. No redheads, though, she noted with some pride. Or perhaps, she thought glumly, she had just put him off redheads for life.

"_Shit!_"

Realising the time, Ginny scooped up her bag and wand and disappeared to Luna's house with a small _pop_. When she arrived she saw Hermione's hair was already halfway styled and Rose - Luna's cousin - was applying finishing touches to her make-up. There was an air of frantic panic in the house; everyone seemed to be bustling everywhere despite the fact they didn't seem to be doing an awful lot. Luna, however, Ginny could bet, would be sublimely serene. She was going to marry Blaise Zabini, the love of her life, and Ginny was sure the Lovegoods had some sort of wedding tradition that would ensure lifelong happiness and good fortune. Unfortunately for Ginny it probably involved covering the head bridesmaid in honey and having her dance over a hornet's nest singing Auld Lang Syne. Ginny giggled at her own ridiculousness but promptly stopped when a knot of tension appeared in her stomach once more...she was _singing _this evening. Luna had begged her to perform for the first dance and who was Ginny to say no to the woman who had picked her up off the kitchen floor more times than she could count because of heartache, or work stress, or...or simply because Ginevra Weasley was a bit of an emotional wreck who struggled to always maintain a healthy equilibrium.

"Ginny, you're late!" Hermione's voice seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and relief. She jumped up the second the last pin was slid into her hair. "I thought you'd left me to brave the buttercup gown alone. And look at my hair!"

"Oh shush, it's really not that bad...you know Luna, she has _eccentric _tastes," admonished Ginny, knowing full well she was ready to commit mutiny herself against the dress. The hair itself really wasn't that bad, just a complex nest of twists and turns with a few butter-coloured daisies dispersed throughout it. Yellow signified luck, or some such nonsense. And Luna had insisted that nothing be left to chance. Although, Ginny mused, you only had to catch a glimpse of Blaise and Luna together to know that even if everyone had worn black and shaved themselves completely bald, they were a couple meant for one another and they'd make their own luck and good fortune by loving one another. And hey, apparently, open, and trusting relationships suited some people. Apparently.

Bringing herself out of a reverie that could only end badly, Ginny realised Hermione had been delivering something akin to a sermon on why her hair was bound to end up twice the size it usually was tomorrow morning after enduring today's hairdo. Disregarding the brunette, she asked, "Where's the bride, anyway?"

"Upstairs. Meditating." Both Rose and Hermione rolled their eyes, clearly exasperated at Luna's refusal to panic and become the Bridezilla that Fleur had been. Personally, Ginny thought that if she could bottle Luna's wedding zen she'd make a fortune. However given the current climate of the room she decided against sharing her business venture with the others.

* * *

**Toria's Prompt**

**Basic premise:** A wedding Draco and Ginny both attend. They have had a relationship in the past that did not end well.

**Must haves:** Something unconventional that might usually appear in a crack!fic (a characterization, a dialogue, an object, a situation, etc.); The bridesmaids and best man must be named and somehow involved in the story.

**No-no's:** Harry/Hermione (unless they break up)

**Rating range:** T and up

**Bonus points:** It's Draco and Ginny's wedding.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Head pounding, mouth dry and the hangover shakes well and truly trying to kick in, Draco stood at the front of the marquee, watching the wedding guests be herded into their allotted places by the ushers - two poor feckless cousins of Blaise's who had been forced into cornflower blue robes. No doubt the thought of dances with pretty society girls softened the blow of having to be so pleasant to all of Lovegood's kooky relatives. Looking out over the congregation you could really see, on a massive scale, the differences between the bride and groom themselves. Blaise was old money - high-society and well bred. Luna was eccentric, open-minded and spent only half of her time in reality. The Zabini family and friends were impeccably well dressed in silks and tailored cloaks, Lovegood's brood was swathed in clashing fabrics and odd headdresses. Well, perhaps this was a little uncharitable, considered Draco. Only Luna's blood family looked especially exuberant. The rest were just a little...common. Yeah, his nasty little conscience that sounded remarkably like a redhead he once knew piped up, that's _so _much more charitable.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't wise to have sat up all night drinking his father's wine collection the evening before his best friend's wedding, particularly not when he was supposed to be the best man. However, today was the first day in far too long that he was going to see Ginevra Weasley, and it would be safe to say he needed more than a little dutch courage. Although, perhaps Blaise had the correct idea when he'd quit after the third bottle and gone to bed, now Draco not only felt queasy at the prospect of encountering Ginny today, and having to give a speech, he was also fighting to keep down the last bottle of rioja. In fact, in spite of it being one of the biggest days of his life, Blaise looked far more at ease than Draco did; he stood tall, his face a picture of calm confidence, his eyes full of pride and emotion. Draco envied him; no more strings of endless vapid women, no regretting who you wake up next to. He thought he'd be in this very same position not too long ago, but…well, he should've known a little better than to think it was ever going to run smoothly.

He'd bumped into Ginny three years ago at a ministry function honouring Harry Potter and his band of merry men (and women) who had saved the Wizarding World. Everyone had been raucously happy, drunk and excitable, but there she was, standing on a balcony alone. Her long red hair was sticking to her shoulders and bare back in the almost unbearable summer heat that didn't seem to want to break even when the evenings had rolled in. He felt drawn to her energy, and as he approached, he found himself appreciating the creamy tone of her exposed skin and noticing a trail of freckles that started at the top of her spine and disappeared into the black silk of her slinky dress. He knew then he'd like to taste each sprinkling of freckles Ginevra Weasley possessed.

Draco knew he didn't believe in love at first sight (goodness knows he'd seen the girl trailing after Potter enough times in his youth), or soul mates or fate or anything like that. However, he did know in that moment that he wanted the redhead before him. Wanted to feel her, to know her, to understand her; who was she and why couldn't he take his eyes off her?

He joined her, and after meeting a little resistance, they began to talk. Before long he had swiped a bottle of extremely potent elderflower champagne and the two of them sat beneath the stars taking swigs from the bottle. No one came looking for them and no one noticed they were gone. He learned that she found it as hard as he to celebrate the war; the losses, pain, and violence, and coercion into situations beyond their control had left scars too deep, and raw to cover up by make-up and a dance beneath pretty lights. They watched dawn arrive and parted ways with promises of dinner that evening. They didn't look back after that, they simply pushed forward; pushed through family adversity, society expectations, Weasley family BBQs and Malfoy garden parties. He had thought they were strong, unbreakable and timeless. She had opened him up to the world, to feelings, to just experiencing life and he grounded her. He protected her; he made her feel wanted and desired.

The congregation stood up in a rustle of fabric and the opening bars of a melody signified the arrival of the bride. Blaise's chest seemed to swell with love and he shot a nervous grin at Draco, who looked as though he was about to throw up, his blue eyes fixated on the head bridesmaid who had just entered. She was trussed up in a bright yellow gown, decked in ruffles, and her hair had become an elaborate nest of curls, but beneath all of that, beneath the veneer that was not quite Ginevra Weasley, was the woman he loved. Had loved. Loved.

She had lost a little weight and a little of the inquisitiveness in her large brown eyes but here she was. It was almost like he had acquired tunnel vision; all he could see was Ginny walking down the aisle. She was doing the best she could to avoid Draco's stare. However, at the very last moment, when she reached the end of the aisle and stood by the beautiful, flower covered arch, she looked up from her bouquet of lilacs and saw the man she'd left months before gazing back at her, his stare unreadable.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

The ceremony had been remarkably short and sweet, although Ginny doubted she'd have noticed if it had gone on for days. The entire event went hazy from the moment she'd seen Draco staring at her from across the other side of the alter. It wasn't until she hit the fresh air hat the world reverted to technicolor once more and the sounds of clapping, conversation and celebration resonated loudly through the air again. Luna and Blaise were hand-in-hand and lost in one another's happiness. Confetti flew through the air and sparks from a hundred wands filled the sky with violet, orange and bright blue streaks.

"Weasley."

The word cut through the chaos easily. His clipped, posh British accent was unmistakable. How often had she fallen asleep listening to him read to her?

Ginny turned around to face the owner of the voice; his blond hair was big and swept back, his navy dress robes impeccably cut to flatter his tall, willowy physique.

"Draco." She had meant to sound assertive and sure of herself. She may have been the one to run from him, but she was determined to stand in front of him with conviction, determined to muster as much pride as she could . Instead her voice sounded flimsy and hushed, a fretful inhale of breath.

Before conversation could bloom, or even before awkwardness could occur, members of the wedding party were being ushered over to a poppy field dappled with beautiful autumn sunlight for photographs with the newlyweds. However, before Ginny had quite made it through the gate, she was grabbed by a wide-eyed Ron.

"Ginny! Ginny-winny-woo! I forgot to tell you! Something…I forgot to tell you…some something!"

Ron's bright blue eyes were darting from left to right, his cheeks damp and clammy. He seemed overwrought and excitable. His voice was high-pitched, his breathing erratic.

"Ron…what in the name of Helga Hufflepuff is wrong with you?"

"I, er, I don't know. But…errrm, I was at Luna's wedding and then…then something happened, yes. Something happened. I feel happy. Doesn't Hermione look lovely? I think she looks lovely like a duck. A silky bru-bru-brunette duck."

Massaging her temples Ginny looked around for help…divine intervention…anything that could possibly cure or, at the very least, silence her brother who had apparently been hit by the most horrendous confundus charm in the past five minutes, or had otherwise taken to smoking crack when no one else was looking.

"I think Hermione might quite like to be a duck…shame I'm not good with transfiguration…SHE COULD DO IT IN A MIRROR!"

People were beginning to turn around and stare at the two Weasleys; Luna's family smiled genially whilst Blaise's seemed genuinely offended by Ron's outburst. He continued chuntering on about ducks and feathers and stale bread. His words were hurried, blurring into one another and becoming more rapid by the second. His cheeks turned a lovely shade of puce and were clashing extraordinarily well with his maroon robes. Ginny did the only thing she could possibly think of in that panicked second with people start to notice to her brother's gibberish, Draco within touching distance, and the photographer becoming irate that the head bridesmaid appeared to have been distracted by a lunatic: she slapped Ron with all her might across the cheek.

"Ouch, Gin, I was only saying you and Hermione looked great today…I mean, a little on the yellow side but great. Merlin. Malfoy being here has really screwed you up…"

Rubbing his cheek and shaking his head, Ron walked into the crowd, utterly bemused as to why the Zabinis were looking at him as though he'd gained an extra head.

"Oi, Red, if you're quite finished with your theatrics, maybe I could get you over here!" The photographer was clicking his bony little fingers at her. Thus, not quite understanding how her day had taken such an interesting and bizarre turn, Ginny could do nothing but obey the pushy little man and join the rest of the wedding party.

There were various combinations of people posed and reposed in front of the camera. For the most part, Ginny remained a docile puppet for Lady Zabini, the photographer, and Hermione to mould as they saw fit, but when it came to a photograph composed solely of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, she found it hard to comply. She was placed next to Draco; she could feel his body heat, smell his cool scent of expensive cologne and peppermints but couldn't bring herself to look at him, to touch him. There was an inch between the bare skin of her arm and the silky material of his robes, Ginny was sure she could feel the electricity of unspoken words, lost memories and hurt feelings literally flying over her synapses.

"And if the groomsmen and bridesmaids could face each other…"

The four clicks of the camera seemed to take an age, and the feeling that the world was muted had returned from the moment Ginny and Draco had turned to face one another. It was bizarre and suffocating and intimidating. There was so much to say, and so little that could be said.

Draco had known today would be difficult and painful but he hadn't expected to feel this confused. Looking down at her right now, a bundle of red silk, freckles and anxiety, he couldn't help but want to scoop her up in his arms and tell her he didn't care if she had issues, didn't care she'd rejected and humiliated him. But it did matter, and conversations did need to be had and certain things did need to be made clear.

Before Ginny could gather together any coherent thoughts, she was dragged off by Hermione and Rose, both of whom were chattering happily about the ceremony, questioning Ginny on Ron's "moment," and lamenting their grumbling stomachs. Taking a deep breath, the redhead made a conscious decision that she was going to start functioning like a normal witch for the rest of the day. This wasn't about her. This day was about Luna and Blaise. She had already had her time; she had screwed up with Draco and monopolised her friends with her tales of woe and over-analysing. She was going to make every effort to be civil with Draco today and not to have an emotional meltdown in a portaloo round the back of the giant white marquees whilst everyone else feasted on cake and danced badly to the band.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

Ginny had never seen so many bright yellow and blue bubbles in her life – in fact, she didn't think she'd ever really seen bright yellow and blue bubbles floating just above her head at all – but regardless of this, Luna had done a beautiful job of decorating the marquee. There were candles everywhere, floating blue sprites and reams and reams of yellow-gold ribbons dangling and curling just above the heads of the congregation. Smoky piano music drifted through the air, an element that was unmistakably Blaise, and large champagne bottles flew about the tent, refilling glasses the minute they dipped below the halfway point (something else that was Blaise's idea, undoubtably). Ginny suspected she would be on the wrong side of tipsy before this day was finished. However, she also suspected that insobriety was the secret to getting to the end of today.

Draco sat next to Blaise, and Ginny next to Luna on the long banquet table at the head of the room but it was remarkably easy for the redhead to pretend her former lover was not sat there. She spent most of the meal facing Hermione. Luna didn't seem to notice, she was wrapped up in her new husband and glowed with pride every time a guest approached the top table to congratulate them. The food was glorious and prepared by Blaise's cousin's catering company, and for the first time in months Ginny felt like she was really able to taste what she was eating. It was almost as though a piece of who she was had been left behind when she ran from Draco that evening and despite the awkwardness and despite the silence that was filled with hurt and love, he was still completing her by simply being around. Or perhaps it was because he hadn't spat words of venom at her, or shown any real hostility at all even though she would say it was perfectly understandable for him to do so.

Ginny hadn't meant to run. She had been very much in love with him and, for that matter, was still very much in love with him, but something deep within her had never enjoyed that level of commitment to another. Since Tom Riddle and his diary, Ginny had been fighting to love and accept herself. It wasn't as bad as it was, and, of course, when you're a teenager, hormones and emotions are running wild anyway, but it certainly left a lasting mark. It was hard to accept a love that she couldn't afford to give herself. Draco had prized her above everyone and everything and he wanted to be with her forever. And when he'd said those words, in that place so full of people, it had felt like a vice tightening around her chest. She had panicked, and she had run. Ginny knew she needed to learn to see her own self-worth, needed to defeat a few personal demons and then, perhaps, she would be fit to fall in love properly with another person. She had never so explicitly explained this to Draco; he had known she was fragile and a little broken but it wasn't even until that moment that Ginny had been able to pinpoint why relationships and commitment had never seemed comfortable to her. There had been nights she'd woken up feeling like she was wearing something entirely too tight with cold, clammy sweat breaking out in beads all over her flesh. Draco had calmed her, had loved her.

The ringing sound of a knife against a champagne flute caused a hush to fall over the tent. Draco stood and Ginny felt him take a deep breath and switch into his charismatic I-can-control-a-room mode.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am very sorry to distract you from your champagne and conversation. However…"

He was funny and he was charming and he was too bloody good looking for his own good, were the main thoughts drifting in Ginny's mind throughout Draco's speech. She had forgotten how much he could make her laugh. She hadn't expected it when they'd first began seeing one another; Draco Malfoy could be witty, in fact he could be side-splittingly hilarious. He was playful and wicked and liked to tease and he had kept her smiling everyday they were together. Not that they didn't have their arguments and differences, but he knew how to play and knew how to love her.

A round of applause signified the end of Draco's speech and it was Xenophilius Lovegood's turn to speak. The eccentric man who'd raised Luna alone since she was nine was already sobbing into an overtly large, spotty handkerchief. His words were muffled by emotion and tears, although Ginny seriously doubted that his speech would have made too much sense even if he could have been entirely coherent.

"So," whispered Hermione beneath her breath, "how are you doing today – Draco being and everything?"

Ginny had known this was going to come. No one really knew how things had ended with her and Draco, only that they had and that since that time Draco had reverted back to acting like he was a twenty-one year old playboy again and Ginny had thrown herself into work with alarming gusto.

"Honestly, Hermione, I don't know…I've missed him. So much."

"I just don't understand why you two haven't talked!"

"Timing, Hermione. Bad timing and shitty pride."

"But there's something still there, isn't there? I can see it!"

"So _what_? This is Luna's day; it isn't time for me to bring up my screwed up relationship!"

There was more applause and then everyone was on their feet.

A loud unknown voice rang out across the marquee. "We drink to the bride and groom! To future happiness! To love! To Luna and Blaise!"

Amongst the drinking, cheering and clapping, Ginny could feel Hermione's eyes on her; she knew the brunette was only trying to look out for her, but her heart was breaking all over again and Ginny was struggling to hold herself together without Hermione interrogating her.

Voice hurried, harsh and hushed Ginny began to rant. "Look, I am two Draco related questions away from a meltdown, I just want to get through the next couple of hours without having over analyse the fuck up that is me, Hermione. I love you, I appreciate your concern but I don't know what's happening right now and as far as I know he is going to be shagging some simpering blonde this evening and not giving a flying fig that I will be crying into an extremely large bottle of damson gin!"

A clearing of a throat caused Ginny to turn around, a false smile plastered on her lips. Draco was stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I…I have to go warm up."

And before he could speak, Ginny dashed off towards the stage.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

Draco watched as his redhead ran away from him again, she was irritatingly good at fleeing from an awkward situation. A little part of him had felt satisfaction in knowing she wasn't seeing anyone else, and that she had noticed his exploits with other women. The other part of him felt sick that she'd been hurt by his actions which had been splashed gloriously across all the society papers. Revenge hadn't really been a part of debauched spiral, he'd known she would know about it - she worked at the Prophet, for Merlin's sake - and yes, he'd liked the idea that she'd be aware of his movements, but mostly, he hoped it would tell her not how much fun he was having but how much pain he was in. She knew him better than most people, knew that when he self-destructed, it was because he was in pain and couldn't stand to be alone with his thoughts, Instead he required alcohol and distraction. She had just left him; he had been totally bereft and then she'd gotten roped into some horrendously dangerous undercover story for _The Prophet_ without telling him. She could've died, or at least been seriously hurt, and she hadn't given him the courtesy of knowing. He was furious at her for a myriad of reasons, he was hurting and, most of all, he missed her. She owed him a conversation at the very least, She'd stolen, like a Dementor, a part of his soul that day she left him. He wanted it back. He wanted her back.

Draco grimaced at Hermione and walked back to his seat. The band was tuning up their instruments and he could see Ginny nervously wringing her hands through a few scales with the pianist. A large bottle of champagne refilled his flute and he drained it almost immediately. Blaise had warned him that Ginny was going to sing this evening. Luna had asked her to as a present to the couple. It was supposedly excellent luck if a friend and loved one sang for the couple's first dance and...well, Ginny had such a beautiful voice that Draco thought it made perfect sense to have her perform. He had always loved hearing her sing, she was so talented that Draco couldn't understand why she didn't try to make a career of it. Something about fame terrified her. She didn't want the notoriety. Not that possessing Weasley genes didn't make a legend in her own right anyway. Everyone knew the old bloodlines.

He watched her unpicking her hair. She hated having it tied back. Once all the restraints were out, she shook her head and ran her fingers through the flame coloured tendrils a few times; it was big and curly and made her look like a pre-Raphaelite goddess under the low candle light. Taking a deep, calming breath Ginny approached the front of the stage, holding her wand like a microphone, an amplifying spell clearly cast upon her voice.

"Ladies and gentleman, please, can we gather for Luna and Blaise's first dance as a married couple!" Her voice, low and gravelly, spread over the room and people were soon excitedly stood around the perimeter of the dance floor. There was so much expectation for the first dance; it was a strange moment, it was the first time the married couple really had the chance to have a private moment, a few minutes to touch one another, hold each other. It was observed by so many, but Draco always thought it was a ritual that felt incredibly private. He remained sat at the top table where he could see both the dance and the stage without having to stand in with the other guests.

The opening chords began to fill the air, and Ginny started swaying to the beat, her large eyes half closed as she felt the music wash over her. There was something beautifully primitive about music, and about this whole day; energy was thick in the air. So many magical beings here to celebrated love, a union and new beginnings. A pagan ceremony performed out in the countryside, close to nature and to the Earth, was a powerful and heady experience for any witch or wizard. Swallowing any nerves she may have felt, letting go of an anxieties she'd had that day, Ginny focused on her two friends who were in love and who she was ecstatic to see so happy. She wished them well; health, prosperity, love...everything. Parting her lips she began to sing.

_"I just want to see you when you're all alone, I just want to catch you if I can..." _

Draco felt himself simultaneously tense and relax all at once. The music rolled over him and Ginny's voice filled the air. It was husky and filled with soul. Blaise and Luna were already lost in one another's eyes, completely unaware of their audience. Draco was feeling something similar himself. The more she sang, the more lost in her he became.

Images flitted through his mind; Ginevra lying beneath him her eyes closed, her back arched, her hair spread across the white cotton pillows. Her ice cold feet touching his in the middle of the night. Her face smudged with flour as she attempted to bake cookies for his birthday, just like he'd had as a child. Her face tear streaked and blotched red with anger as they shouted about her taking on dangerous assignments. Her, her, her. Ginny laughing, running, working, ink-splattered, sleeping, mid-orgasm, crying.

"_I know you want to hear me catch my breath, I love you 'til the end..."_

Ginny opened her eyes properly for the first time and found herself latched onto Draco's icy blue gaze from the back of the room. The intensity in their stare would have been enough to ignite the entire room. She yearned to reach out and touch him, to fix them and love him again. To love him in an entirely new way in which she could return the amount of affection and commitment he placed in her.

_"I just want to see you laugh, not cry..."_

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. He wanted to fight for them. There really was no one else for him, he knew that. He'd always known that. She had broken him and only she could fix him.

_"All I can say...I love you 'til the end...I love you 'til the end..."_

As the song ended rapturously applause seemed to wake both Ginny and Draco and Blaise and Luna front heir reveries. Ginny wiped the tears that had begun flowing thickly down her cheeks and bowed before leaving the stage. The intensity dissipated as the band began to play a faster jive and other guests flooded the dance floor.

* * *

Ginny stood out in the night air, gulping in fresh oxygen. She didn't know what on earth had just happened but it was clear that Draco and she were not entirely finished.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

It wasn't until nearly the last dance that Draco approached Ginny that night, asking her to dance. It was an almost silent slow dance filled with promise. Other guests had nudged one another at the sight of the ex-lovers starting so intently into one another's eyes and remarked on how tightly Draco was holding the tiny redhead to him.

They stole a bottle of champagne and escaped the melee. They talked until sunrise about everything and nothing. There was tears and anger and happiness. There was a proclamation of hope and of trying once more.

Two years later, Ginny wore a mediaeval looking ring with an opulent emerald in the centre as she chopped onions for dinner. She smiled to herself, content.


End file.
